


forfeiture

by avapacifica



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Abuse, Bathing/Washing, Bathtubs, Crying, Emotional Hurt, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Hair, Haircuts, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Recovery, Sensory Deprivation, Shaving, Trauma, this went from me being sad about gender stuff to me being sad about sensory overload, vent fic if it needs to be said
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29815389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avapacifica/pseuds/avapacifica
Summary: illumi makes a mistake, and it costs him everything
Kudos: 6





	forfeiture

**Author's Note:**

> character study/vent fic, so if i'm the only one that enjoys this so be it  
> inspiration from Let's Talk About Your Hair by lilithsang3l and Sheared by ohofcourse. I wanted to do a take on Illumi's hair being forcibly taken from him, but without hisoka.

Illumi messed up. Better put, he royally screwed up an entire mission. A mark had gotten away. They had caused a panic, all because Illumi had gotten distracted for a fraction of a second. He had killed the man in the end, but not before chaos erupted in the small town he had traveled to. 

Needless to say, the client wasn't happy. That wasn’t acceptable, Zoldycks are meant to do the job flawlessly. He arrived home completely prepared to be brought back to the torturous punishments of his youth. It had been a long time, but he knew he deserved whatever was coming to him. 

He went to his father’s room where Silva was waiting with a knife. He had approached his son, arm extended. Illumi had learned better than to flinch, but was doing everything not to move as the blade got closer to his neck. His father circled around his back, and Illumi took it as a chance to blink. Somehow Silva noticed. 

“Eyes open.” Mind still fixated on his sight, Illumi barely processed the cold of the knife against the back of his neck, Silva grabbing the bottom of his hair, and the blade slicing through the entirety of it. In a single moment, years of growth detach from his body. The hair still possessed settled, now an inch or so shorter than his chin. Illumi slowly raised a hand to the side of his face, trying to feel for the ends, but Silva slapped it away. A firm hand gripped his shoulder, as Illumi was led to his mother, a few rooms away.

“Shave the rest.” Silva ordered his wife.

“Why can’t we just let the boy keep the it, I think he’s learned his lesson.” He had been hoping his mother hadn’t taken notice of how upset he’d been, apparently he’d failed at that as well. Silva only glared at her, it was as non negotiable as it was that she’d have to do it. 

And so Kikyo let her son sit while she felt around his head. She cut the rest of the long bits, and shaved it all even at the end. They said nothing to each other, because what could either of them possibly say? He had gone to his room silently after as well, and things in the household remained their normal tense self. 

That’s where he stands now, locked in his personal bathroom, staring at a reflection he can hardly recognize. His hands grip the edge of the sink, afraid to run his hands through it. His hair hasn’t been this short since he was a baby. He’s always had at least an inch or two as far as his memory goes back. Illumi fears if he touches it he’ll lose whatever remains. 

His feet burn, itching to walk, no run, back to his father’s room and scrape any remnants of the cut pieces off the floor. It takes everything in him to stand still, and a million reminders that the hair is long gone, probably in some trash can. Thinking about every discarded strand that he worked so hard to grow makes Illumi sick to his stomach. 

That’s the thing, it had been hard work. Years of his life, in fact most of it, was spent dedicated to getting and keeping it long. Being on his best behavior to convince his parents to let it stay wasn’t his primary goal, but he always considered it a reward for his hard work. 

Nothing ever belongs to him, Illumi realized this a long time ago. He had few possessions in his room, only keeping what he needed. Material objects don’t bring him joy, not many things crossed that threshold in the first place. As pathetic as he feels admitting it to himself, his hair is, was, one of those things. But like anything else within the estate, it was never his to begin with. It could be taken away at a moment's notice with any mistake he makes. And it was. 

Years.

It’s going to take years.

He doesn’t know if he has that. Of course, he doesn’t plan on dying anytime soon, and he knows not to fight anyone he can’t win against. There’s always that chance though, that he'll be backed into a corner he’s not able to escape from. To die looking like this… Illumi hates to be vain, but there’s nothing worse he can imagine. 

When he’s particularly stressed, which has only happened a handful of times, he’d pull on the root of his hair to calm himself down. Ironic.

Years. 

He doesn’t know if he can. Illumi is rational, he knows that this sadness will be subdued with time. There’s always going to be a nagging in the back of his head though, that something is off. He knows himself. He knows he won’t shake that.

He blinks, as he does a couple of times a minute, and his vision clears. Despite staring at himself, he only now realizes he had been crying. It’s an activity he hasn’t partaken in since he was about four or five. If his father were to see him now, he’d do something much worse than cutting his hair, though Illumi can’t imagine what that could possibly be.

He’s been put through so much physical torture, but this is different. You can keep hurting someone’s body and they’ll almost always heal. Illumi believed his parents succeeded in cutting off every emotion he had left, quite early on in his childhood even. While it is a bittersweet comfort to know he holds an emotional attachment to something, feeling things is a futile endeavor at this point.

His shoulders shudder, and Illumi allows one guilt stricken sob to flow through his body. His grip on the sink only tightens. The porcelain cracks, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Trying to focus on something, anything, he looks back to the mirror. His eyes circle his body until they land on the bathtub behind him.

Illumi is a shower person. They’re more efficient, and he can’t keep his mind occupied just sitting in water for too long. Regardless of that, an overwhelming urge comes to him, and he needs to be bathing in that instant. 

He goes over to kneel in front of the faucet, slowly turning the knobs. He keeps his hand under the water as it pours out, to make sure it’s the perfect temperature. He doesn’t want to waste time later adding extra cold or warm water. It's hot, enough to where it will last a while but won’t burn his skin.

Only when the tub is full does Illumi strip. A feeling of emptiness hits his stomach when a wave of hair doesn’t come to rest on his bare back. He puts one foot into the tub, and immediately relaxes. He almost lowers the rest of his body in. Almost. Head tilted down, Illumi only meant to look at the tub. His eyes instead landed on his chest, which was covered in stray hair that hadn’t made it to the floor. He’s suddenly stuck in a limbo, not wanting to wash the remnants from his body but needing to be surrounded by something other than air. 

A few more unbearable seconds tick by, but not being able to take it any longer, he goes the rest of the way in. Illumi doesn’t give his chest a second glance, thus being able to forget about it for the most part. 

The bath feels good, better than he thought it would. He sinks down so that the water reaches his chin and only doesn’t cover his head and knees. Not wanting to stop, he goes down to his ears. With his eardrums enveloped, he’s surrounded by bliss. His numbed emotions are now matched by numbed senses. The whole situation is a little less overwhelming, and he doesn’t want it to end there either. There’s still more that he could do.

Illumi gives in, and sinks to the bottom of the tub, resting his head on the porcelain of the base. Relaxed at once, he feels at peace with his surroundings. The further he got down, the less white noise he could hear. The only sound that remains is the water plugging up his ears, which he enjoys. 

He keeps his eyes open, to drain any tears left in them. Maybe that’s not how it works, but he doesn’t mind too much, as it feels nice. It’s bothersome when his vision is blurred by crying he can’t control. He holds authority over his sight now, and when the whole picture is faint it’s infinitely better. 

The pinnacle of being underwater though, isn’t in his face at all. The water sloshes back and forth in the tub, Illumi can feel the movement. As it flows around his scalp, the water mimics his old locks almost perfectly. His thoughts aren’t dedicated to much at the moment, so all willpower goes into believing this fantasy true. It works. It works so well.

On a good day, the assassin can go twenty minutes underwater without coming up for air. His lungs had a fair amount of stress put on them today, and so about five minutes were shaved off that time. Illumi knows his limits, and knew the moment he had to come up. Perhaps he ignored it a second too long though, as when he changes environments he gets caught in between, and spends the next minute coughing up the water. It’s a good enough distraction from the fact that his hair isn’t heavy hanging off his head, and that minute of ignorance is one he’s grateful for. 

Illumi makes his way to a small chest of towels. Ordinarily he’d sequentially use them how they were stacked, but there was an especially soft one near the bottom that he uses when he's particularly sore from a job and needs an extra comfort. The smell of the pine wood it was up against comes into contact with his nose. The cotton holds the scent, not too strong. It’s enough to bring a small smile to his face, and not much of anything is able to do that.

He brings the cloth to his head. Drying his hair would usually take ten minutes and a hair dryer. Illumi is able to get all the wetness out with just the towel in a sliver of that time, but keeps it up there a bit longer. Though the job is finished, it feels like rushing to dry the rest of his body so soon.

The time does come however, and he wraps it around his waist. He kneels to the tile, and with how soft and warm it is, Illumi could easily mistake the towel for a blanket. Just as he sat next to the faucet when filling the tub, he stays next to it after he uncovers the drain to watch the water flow away. 

His arms are draped over the edge, with only his eyes peeking over the edge. Illumi sees his worries leave down the pipes. At a certain point, the course slows. He takes notice of some of the hair that washed off his body stopping the drainage. Instinctively, he dips his arm into the pool left to remove it. About an inch from the predicament, his hand stops, hovering. If he touches it, he knows he'll shatter. Changing his mind, Illumi removes it, drying both front and back on the towel draping over his legs. 

Returning to his previous position, he watches the water drain, not really minding how long it will take.

He’ll remove the hair in the morning. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you enjoyed. i'm not feeling the greatest rn (if that wasn't evident enough) so feedback of any kind would be lovely.


End file.
